


It's all I ever asked for, yet I don't want it

by AutumnMelon



Series: Wow, another Tommy-centric fic :0 [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Child Neglect, Crying, I'm Bad At Tagging, IRL Fic, In NO way is this cannon!, Paranoia, Protective Wilbur Soot, Stabbing, Tags Are Hard, Tell me if I missed any tags!!!, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), and murdering, but its just, mentioned shooting, venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:13:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29170140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnMelon/pseuds/AutumnMelon
Summary: Tommy's parents have neglected him since he was young, but all of a sudden they are all cuddly and lovey with him. It overwhelms Tommy so he goes to Wilbur for help.HEAVY venting, don't mind me.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Wow, another Tommy-centric fic :0 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197617
Comments: 13
Kudos: 407





	It's all I ever asked for, yet I don't want it

_“We are going out; we’ll be back tomorrow.”_

The fourteen-year-old pushed back tears as he held himself on his bed. Tommy’s parents were going out again tonight, like they always did. He was alone in the house, left to drown in his sorrow and paranoia, the only sound being the ringing in his ears. 

He was okay, this happened a lot. His parents would leave for an amount of time than be day for a bit before the cycle continued. It was okay, he was used to it. 

~~(But he wished he weren’t .)~~

Tommy was old enough to be left on his own, he was almost legal. ~~(But what about when he was six? Was he old enough then?)~~

His parents liked to go out with friends at bars and shit, of course they wouldn’t bring him, that’d be stupid. And all the other times they were working, having a job is stressful, of course they’d want to enjoy the times they weren’t at work. 

They couldn’t enjoy it if a kid was through to restrict their jokes and places to go. 

The boy wiped at his eyes and sniffled, sitting up. He had work to do, feed the dogs, wash the dishes, and do his laundry. Maybe, they’d praise him for that, being responsible. ~~Not like he wasn’t already.~~

As he made his way down his stairs, the sound echoing with the quiet house, he tried not to think of his parents. Reaching the last step, he walked across the room, getting the attention of his dogs. Their nails scraped against the wooden floor as they scrambled near him.

They love him, ~~at least.~~

Tommy pats their heads before going to their food, making them perk-up with excitement. He smiles slightly, they look so happy. ~~Unlike him.~~

Once he’s done, his eyes wonder without thought, before gracing the window. Someone could shoot him through it. His mind panics. Someone could come through the door. He could get robbed. He could get stabbed; he could get murdered- 

He clenches his fists so hard; his nails leave imprints. 

The blonde boy gives a shaky breath and leaves quickly, saying to himself it’s okay, he’s not scared. ~~(~~ ~~He’s terrified.)~~

Straight to his room, straight to his room, straight to his room. His eyes don’t glance at his parents’ room, they just don’t. The closed door with no light peaking under it doesn’t haunt him. It doesn’t. It’s fine. He’s okay. 

He sits on his chair, computer in front of him. He pulls up YouTube, hoping to drown out his feelings with funny videos. To forget, to pretend his parents were out in the living room talking. His parents loved him. 

____________________ 

The room his heavy on Tommy’s shoulders, the sixteen-year-old being asked a question. 

“--do you want me to make soup?” 

His mother asked, _his mother asked._

Words were dry on Tommy’s tongue. He just said he wasn’t feeling well—which was true, his head was throbbing—but she would normally just say okay, then leave him to his own accord. 

“Y-Yeah,” 

She smiled sweetly and squeezed his shoulder from where she stood beside him, leaning down to press small kiss against his temple before walking out of his room. 

From where Tommy sat on his bed, his eyes watered as the touches lingered and stung. She never did that, not when he was sick with the flu, or when he was so sick, he had to go to the hospital. 

It was so overwhelming; she can’t do that. Not when she wasn’t there for him, she can’t pretend suddenly, not this fast. 

It burned, it hurt, her touches. Tommy brought up a hand to rub away at his temple. 

_Make it stop._

She has no right. But maybe she's trying to redeem herself—no, it's too late for that. She had the chance before, why now; why act as if everything's all better? 

Tommy isn’t dumb, he’s seen happy families. They laugh together, play together, talk to each other. _My family_ _doesn’t_ _do that_ _, they never did_ . He knows and he’s ~~jealous~~. 

He felt a tear slip down his face and he hastily wiped it away. 

This is all too much. 

He’s used to being alone, untouched, uncared for. It's how he grew up, she should know this, they can’t do this to him, so fast. 

For the past month, they’ve invited him with, made dinner for them to eat together, gave him the things he asked for. He ruffled my hair, she pat my shoulder. Were they trying to make up for everything? 

No, no,nononono, they never did it before, maybe they’re trying to prove a point to someone, maybe it’s a bet, maybe they want something. _They_ _don’t_ _love him-_

His breathing became rapid, and he reached for his phone. He ignored his own reflection in the black screen while he turned the damn thing on, it had died earlier, and he hadn’t used it since he put it on the charger.

The moments blurred together along with his vision, tears fell from his eyes as he typed his password, clicked the icon, and before he knew it, he was in a call. 

“Tommy,” _Wilbur_ _,”_ I thought I said to only use my personal number in an emergency--” The man stopped talking once he heard a sniffle from Tommy’s line. 

“This is an emergency,” The blonde replied quietly, any louder and his voice would break. He could hear clatter downstairs, pots and pans probably. It wasn’t a sound he was used to. 

Wilbur one of the only people he considered his family, the brother he never had but desperately wanted. Tommy could hear the panic in his voice (he cared) when he spoke, “Oh, Toms, what’s wrong, can you take deep breaths for me? Are you safe?” 

“Mhmm,” 

“Good, deep breaths.” 

His voice was comforting and grounding as Tommy came back ‘round from his panicked state. Tommy rambled out his problems and worries, the neglect and paranoia, the touching and “redeeming”. 

He spilt out his feelings, feeling safe. Safer than he ever has before because he _Knows_ Wilbur, he cares and he listens, which was more than his parents ever did. 

And it was all Tommy asked for. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in two hours because this just happened to me, minus the comfort part though. Seriously, i'm so overwhelmed I don't know what to do so i'm turning to the internet.
> 
> Only one person has ever said "are you safe?" to me and I will forever treasure them even if they don't know it-


End file.
